


The Problems of a White, Teenage Italian.

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Promstuck, like everyone is pretty much briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Lovino Vargas, and you are sat on your own at Senior Prom. Many a Romcom has assured you that this is the pinnacle of your teenage life, and that if your true love didn't sweep you off your feet tonight? You were going to fucking die alone. This outcome was becoming scarily more undeniable as the night went on, and you wonder when the hell did you become such a coward?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problems of a White, Teenage Italian.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first Hetalia fanfic, so I hope to god that their personalties are okay!  
> Just a quick one shot with Lovino and Antonio sorting out their relationship, and Lovino bitching about everyone else. Because Antonio is oblivious, and Lovino sends mixed signals.  
> These two, loveable idiots. I seriously hope they will be in season five soon. My poor heart.

Your name is Lovino Vargas, and you are alone at prom. Wow. What a Cliché you say? Just suck it up and dance you say? You're acting like a teenage girl you say? Fuck you. Just, Fuck you.  
Your name is Lovino Vargas and there is only one reason you are sat, utterly and embarrassingly alone at a table during senior prom, the pinnacle of your teenage life. That one reason, is also the cause of every single problem in your life, the ones that aren't caused by your idiot twin brother (but that doesn't matter right now so lets get back to the main reason of your anger and aloneness).  
That reason is your room-mate of four years, supposed best friend, soon to be college student, Spanish, tomato eating, turtle obsessed bastard that goes by the name of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Who was, at this precise moment, might you add, completely ignoring you and grinding up against Francis Bonnefoy and Gilbert Weillschmidt, his idiot friends - who all of which you loathe entirely - and might you add secondly, have all turned up in the same purple tuxedo. Oh you heard right. A. _Purple. Fucking. Tuxedo._  
You scowl as you watch the three dance in such a vulgar way, you were embarrassed _for_ them and sink lower in your seat as they cat call to each other in a way that all the single, lonely girls find _so_ endearing. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves but you, as far as you can tell - but you hope, with all of your black, shrivelled up heart that someone is hating this whole experience even more so than you.  
Your eyes scan the room, wincing at the coloured lights that are blinding anyone that stumbles into their path, and observe how everyone's prom nights are going so wonderfully, and dare you say it .. Perfect in every single way, compared to yours.  
Your air-headed twin brother was currently teaching his date how to dance without injuring anyone, his date being Mr 'My-muscles-are-bigger-than-my-brain-I-love-potatoes-more-than-life-itself', or Ludwig Weillschmidt as others call him. Feliciano calls him _Luddy_.  
You prefer the first nick name.  
You shudder at the look of pure happiness on your brothers face and move your gaze to observe the others in the room.  
Femke, your lifelong best friend is currently making out with a tall dark and handsome in the corner of the room.  
Alfred has dragged a reluctant and extremely pissed off Arthur up to dance and they were doing something so vulgar on the shitty, too small dance floor that your were worried your eyes were going to bleed profusely and you would end up blind.  
You quickly avert your eyes, knowing that no amount of brain bleach could save you now. It's been nice, but your time is up, you leave your comics to Antonio, your cat to Femke, and everything else to Feli.  
You sigh to yourself at that thought and resist the urge to face palm as you realise that you need to widen your friendship group if you are ever going to hang around with normal people. Heracles and Kiku were sat at another table, not to far from your own, and Heracles was falling asleep on Kiku mid conversation, to the smaller and more alert boy's dismay and to your amusement. Roderich was waltzing around the room with Elizabetha, even though the music was far from classical, the pompous twat looked like an idiot. You also notice Gilbert's obvious distaste to this arrangement, and see the other two of the trio distracting him from the scene. His dancing was a bit off after that ... If you could call it dancing, and Ivan was sat at a table on his own, which you made sure was not in the immediate radius of yours, nodding his head along to the music as he took a sip from ... was that a hip flask?!  
Seriously, where the fuck were the chaperones and why the fuck was all this shit not getting confiscated?  
You gape as you watch Gilbert and Antonio successfully spike the punch with what you know is Moonshine, because you were there when the douche bag creep albino was bragging about making it himself, before moving back to the crowd to 'dance'. You sigh and this time, the urge to face palm is met with no resistance, before jumping slightly at the abrupt change in music.  
Sadiq was currently on the DJ platform, how he got there was a complete mystery, the man hired to do the shitty job was no where in Lovino's sight range. It's best if you don't ask really, you wouldn't put murder past that masked idiot, he freaks you out enough as it is. It explained why the song is suddenly changed from 'Come on Eileen' to 'Get Low' however. You hear Alfred's exclamation of "I love this freakin song dude!" and you roll your eyes at the disastrous song choice as the whole room starts a chorus of 'To the window, to the wall'.  
You go back to scanning the crowd and freeze as your eyes meet a pair of emerald green orbs for a brief moment, Antonio has the nerve to grin at you, with that stupid face of his, and knowing that you are know looking, grinds even harder against Gilbert, and no. That was not your imagination at work.  
You wonder whether he actually saw you or was just mildly interested in the wall decorations behind you, you wouldn't put it past him. He's not the sharpest tool in the box and Matthew spent a hell of a lot of blood, sweat and tears making them. It got your approval. With Antonio's one brain cell, it's a good thing he's pretty.  
You blanch and avert your gaze to the floor, the floor is safe and full of thoughts that do not have anything to do with how the purple tuxedo hugs Antonio's ass perfectly, or how Lovino wished he was in Gilbert's position right now. In Private. And maybe naked.  
OK STOP. COME ON LOVINO BE A MAN ABOUT THIS.  
You then realise that being a man is not the best approach to go for, as your growing crotch is currently telling you. You are going to pretend you never thought that, and cram that growing thought into the darkest file cabinets of your mind, lock it, throw the key into your mind river, watch it float away and forget it ever existed. Now was not the time to be stupid and think stupid (but totally plausible) thoughts. Now was a time for a plan of action... if Lovino actually had one.  
The seat next to you is suddenly filled, and you turn your gaze away from the floor and onto your visitor. You visibly deflate as you see your brother grinning at you and slightly out of breath from dancing, you spot Ludwig getting punch from out of the corner of your eye. Your suspicion grows. Feliciano doesn't like punch. The potato bastard was standing protectively over the snack table. He was also glancing at Feli every so often and not making a move to approach his date. Almost as if Feli had ordered him to stay there.  
This meant one thing.  
And one thing only.  
Your brother was about to force you into a very serious fucking feelings discussion, and you were not fucking interested. Nope. No thank you. Fuck off now. Goodbye.  
In fact, you opened your mouth to tell him, as politely as you could, to "Fuck off and suck a dick." When he pressed a hand over your mouth and smiled. Evilly. Now if you have ever seen Feliciano, straight away you will probably notice that he is made of sunshine and love, he hardly ever opens his eyes when he talks to people, and it is highly possible that he throws up rainbows and kittens. But you know him better than anyone else. You know how manipulating he can be. He was your prodigy from the tender age of seven and you taught him well. At the age of eighteen, he was almost as skilled as you. Almost.  
"So why is Antonio's dick against Gilbert's ass and not yours?" He raised his eyebrow at you and chuckled. You were used to the language, your brother was no angel, no matter what he let anyone else think.  
You signal at him to remove his hand, which he does with a giggle and apology, which you ignore. Then you straighten yourself up and open your mouth to tell him to fuck off, you are a grown man dammit and if you wanted to sulk, you would do so proudly.  
"Because Antonio is a Spanish bastard who has so far been oblivious to all my advances, has been ignoring me all night, and is making me contemplate my life choices."  
Wow nice one Lovino. Real fucking smooth cool kid.  
Feliciano rolled his eyes affectionately and moved his chair closer to yours. "So you haven't talked to him about it?"  
Feliciano raised his hands in apology at the glare you sent him, and laughed. "I'll take that as a no then?"  
Lovino glared at his brother. "What the fuck am I supposed to say? 'Oh hey Antonio! Guess what! I've had a big stinking crush on you for four years and I want us to do the horizontal tango, you up for a quick fuck in my car?' No Feli. Just No."  
Feliciano was grinning. No. Why was he grinning ... wait he wasn't looking at you. Why is he not looking at you? What is going-  
"Ahem~"  
Your whole body tenses up as you hear someone clear their throat from behind you. You narrow your eyes at Feli, who was still grinning, and sent him a look that says 'I am going to shove an axe into your face while you sleep'. Feli must have got the message, because his smile wavered.  
You turn slowly, a Deer trapped in the headlights as you move to see who had interrupted you. In the back of your mind you knew who it was because you are Lovino Vargas, and life has always shit on you and given you the worst fucking luck imaginable. When your strained face is met with a lazy grin, and bright green eyes, you freeze, whimper, and turn a nasty shade of red.  
"Lovi!~ I haven't seen you since we arrived! Why have you been sat on your own all night?"  
Antonio. The love of your life was standing behind you all this time and you didn't even notice him-  
Wait. How long was he there for? Needless to say, you panic. "How long have you been standing there bastard?" Your voice doesn't break, and you certainly do not blush deeper.  
"Uhh, not very long!~ Nope." Out of the corner of your eye you see Feli give the Spaniard a thumbs up and a wink, and you feel your face burn even more.  
"But uhh .. I was wondering whether you would want- Oh! Why aren't you wearing your corsage?"  
Your eyes widen and you begin to splutter a reply as Feliciano begins to snicker behind you. "Well bastard. I'm n-not wearing it because we aren't d-dating idiot! People will talk! Plus we're bros! You know! Best Bros! It would be weird and I uh.."  
You waver at Antonio's now confused and slightly hurt face, but you refuse to feel guilt. You are a man, and you are not wearing his girly 'bro corsage'. It was purple for fucks sake, and your tie was burgundy. Not even Feliks would clash such colours.  
Something behind Antonio however, alerts you that there is still hope in this godforsaken world, and you decide to take action, before you crash and burn even more.  
"FEMKE? WHATS THAT? YOU WHAT? HANG ON LET ME.."  
Needless to say, you run as fast as your legs can carry you, ignoring the glare from your brother, and the confused and nervous look of Antonio. Mission Successful.  
Femke looked at you in amusement however, as you push through the throng of grinding horny teenagers and practically trip over your own feet trying to reach her.  
"Okay so, even from afar I could see your tomato red face as Mr. Matador was chatting you up."  
You glare at the blonde girl, and wonder what the fuck you did to deserve a best friend like her. Homicide and being German are always the most sinful that you think of first. "Well thanks for that Femke, nice boost to my fucking self esteem you bitch."  
She simply grinned, and tugged at Romano's hand. "Well then, there is only one thing for it, a special move that I only break out in dire circumstances."  
You raise an eyebrow. "Fuck you, for the insult to my love life, even though you're right. And what the fuck are you talking about?"  
Femke winks and drags you back towards the throng of dancers. "We are going to dance, and you are going to show off your ass because I know you bought trousers that are two sizes two small for you."  
You scowl at that ..that filthy lie! ... Okay so, you might have bought a too small pair of trousers, so they would hang off your hips and still make your ass look fucking awesome. You grimace as the heat from the crowd suddenly hits you and suddenly Femke is dancing way too close and you can feel her against you and ... and Antonio was looking. In fact, he was looking fucking furious. Then you get it. It was the oldest fucking trick in the book, and has a 100% success rate as far as you're concerned. Femke is a genius and you smirk at the Spaniard, sending him a cocky salute. You start to have fun, even if it's only a minuscule amount, and you begin to loosen up. Antonio still plagues your thoughts however, and you can practically feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull as you and Femke move across the room.  
Your name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and you are alone at prom. It's not that you haven't got plenty of choices, you are an opportunist after all, and nearly half of these girls are more than willing, and even some of the boys, but as you sit and drink some of the punch that you and Gilbert had spiked earlier, you know that it's not the dance you have a problem with, you simply haven't found the right partner yet. Metaphorically speaking of course. Well, in your current situation, it could be meant quite literally as well. As it turns out, everyone knows of your feelings toward your chosen partner, except for that person themselves. Very high school cliché, but you would prefer to keep it that way.  
You are leaving to attend college in the coming fall, and if something hasn't happened in the last two years, then it's not going to happen in the four months you have left at Hetalia Academy.  
  
  
  
Your name is Antonio Carriedo and you are in love with Lovino Vargas, the cute little tomato just doesn't know it yet.  
At the present moment in time, he is currently dancing up against Femke, his best friend of at least ten years, and also a good friend of yours. Your eyes keep meeting, and you begin to feel jealously bubble up inside you. So you have a possessive streak, what of it? Besides, Lovi wasn't exactly helping. Nor was his brother in fact. Feliciano Vargas had pressured you into going to prom in the first place, on top of Gilbert's and Francis' plans for the night, pressured you into taking Lovi, and pressured you into telling him how you felt. Not that it mattered any more, if what you over heard was right.  
You didn't mean to eavesdrop on your dear Lovi's conversation, you just wanted to ask him to dance, after much persuasion from Gilbert and Francis.  
But after the words 'big stinking crush' had left your Lovi's lips then you couldn't help but overhear, you know? So all you had to do was make your move ... which was really easier said than done.  
It was, seeing the state of confusion that you were in now. According the Feliciano, Lovi loved you. This fact was supported by overhearing Lovi's conversation about you with his brother, but now that you had the chance to prove yourself to Lovi, and sweep him off his feet ... you're not too sure whether to go through with it or not. You would be going to separate colleges most probably, seeing as you both haven't got any acceptance letters from any of the ones you wrote to yet, and ... would Lovi even want you?  
"Hey, Toni. Why the long face my awesome amigo?"  
You turn to find Gilbert, grinning widely, sat in the once empty chair next to you and with no Francis to be found.  
"So where is-"  
"Out back, in the shadows, with Matthew."  
Your eyes widen in disbelief, the poker face Gilbert is wearing wavers, and you both tumble into uncontrollable laughter.  
"Alfred is going to fucking kill him!"  
You can only nod in response to your friend, and wipe the tears from your eyes as you hang onto each other for support. It turns out that as well as being alone, you also owe Gilbert $20. For your final year you gave each other goals to achieve by the end of it, and the challenge that Francis was given, was to successfully hit second base with Matthew, Alfred's younger brother, who was more of an overbearing and protective father than a big brother. Francis had been trying all year, and it seemed that when Alfred was distracted from his utter fucking dick of a boyfriend, fuck buddy, what ever the fuck they are you couldn't actually care less, Francis had seized his chance, and also Matthew, and were making out in the bushes outside.  
So, as the music slowed down, you and Gilbert were the only bachelors left (Ivan doesn't count) and instead of pulling you up to dance, as you expect because Gilbert ends up doing it at every dance. Not that you mind of course, what are best friends for? 'How do I live without you' had become the song that represents your friendship. In other peoples eyes Gilbert may be an overconfident, arrogant, downright rude, narcissistic, loud and clingy drunk, albino bastard. But he's your overconfident, arrogant, downright rude, narcissistic, loud and clingy drunk, albino bastard.  
What he does instead, is sigh and pull out a small pocket leather bound book from god knows where, you know these tuxes don't have pockets, and hands it to you, a small smirk on his- Oh my god it's warm.  
"Gilbert? Heh, where did this book come from?"  
"No need to worry about that Toni!" he assures you, which you don't find the least bit comforting. "What you need to focus on, is your hot piece of ass that is currently dancing with the chocoholic girl who I have geography with."  
You flick your gaze over to Lovino, who is watching you just as intently. His hazel eyes break contact first and Gilbert whistles low, rousing you from your thoughts.  
You raise an eyebrow in question to the smug look on his face, he counters with his cackle and wraps an arm around your shoulders.  
"You could cut the fucking tension with a knife man. Seriously. He's single, I would tap that so we know he's worth it, and by that longing gaze that could only be described as 'Disney' he's into you."  
Gilbert turns to you and chuckles, "I mean, it's not going to be the first time you've kissed him right? So why the terror? It's not awesome dude. You've kissed him .. three times already right?"  
"Twice." You quickly correct your friend, grimacing as those memories came flooding back to haunt you.  
The first time you kissed Lovino Vargas was in tenth grade, March 14th to be exact. A Tuesday. Lovino had a date, and being the good friend you are, you ditched Gil and Fran and practically sprinted over to Lovino's house when he text you about giving him tips on kissing. Yeah, even back then you were whipped.

_"Look bastard, all I want are some tips written down okay? I don't want to be fucking awful when the time arises. .. why the fuck are you panting?"_  
 _"No reason Lovi~. Written down? You need practice, not notes on the subject silly!" In truth, you had just ran five blocks, and you were getting a fucking kiss if it killed you. Jesus you're worn out._  
 _"You smart bastard, I don't need practice. I've kissed plenty of girls."_  
 _"Then why did you call me over? We were having a Star Wars marathon." You raise an eyebrow at Lovino, grinning slightly at the soft taint of blush that had begun crawling up his neck. "Lovi, bestest buddies don't lie, so-" He moved towards Lovino and sat next to him on the bed. "-do you want me to help or not?"_  
 _Lovino growled. "What happens in this room stays in this room bastard." You smirk and cross your heart, a childish gesture that you had taken with you into your teens, it made Lovi smirk, relaxing him slightly._  
 _You bring your hand up to his face, brushing a loose strand of hair away and tucking it behind his ear. Your eyes meet, and you almost forget what you were doing. Lovi growled lightly and squirmed under your stare, his sweet blush so endearing to you. Slowly, you lean in and ghost his lips with your own, causing his breathing to catch slightly, before gently pressing your lips together. Their softness was the first thing you notice, how soft and warm they felt, so much that it sent goosebumps up your arms. He tasted sweet, a mixture of tomatoes and coffee, he tasted like Lovino, and it sent chills down your spine as you caressed his lips in sweet, open mouthed kisses. One thing you didn't expect from Lovino, was for him to throw himself at you, and deepen the kiss, straddling your lap and exploring your mouth with his tongue while you sat their stunned and trying to tell yourself that this wasn't a fantasy, it was actually happening. By the time you recovered enough to kiss back, Lovino had stopped, scrambled off you and screamed at you until you left. There wasn't a second date, and he didn't speak to you for two months . You decide not to try that again. Ever._

"The second time was at Alfred's party right? When Feliciano and West fucked in the bath tub?"  
You chuckle slightly at that, because you remember being such a bad influence on Ludwig, and forcing him to drink the most vial concoctions you could make from Alfred's liquor cabinet. The banter lasted for weeks, and he still blushes when it was brought up.  
"Yeah, when Francis thought it would be funny to keep adding vodka into his coke. I told you he couldn't hold his drink."  
Gilbert cackled again, and wiped a tear from his eyes, which stood out quite well in the dark, and against his tux.  
"That was fucking hilarious. Even when you roped me into carrying him home with you. He started fucking singing 'Don't cry for me Argentina."  
You both develop into laughs again, the familiar feeling of nostalgia wash over you, relaxing you. Until Gilbert shattered it.  
"That book I just gave you, contains all of mine and Francis' tips on sex, not that you need it obviously, but seriously dude you look like a nervous wreck. This awesome little book full of awesome little sex tips should make Lovino scream your name in awesome pleasure okay? Okay." Gilbert completely misses the warning signs you were sending him, telling him to shut up, until it was too late. Lovino was currently a few strides away from your table when he had overheard Gilbert's babbling and mention of pleasure, your name and Lovino screaming it, that's going by the look of pure terror on his face and the blush that was travelling across his cheeks.  
Gilbert merely nudged you and winked, before bowing at Lovino, who replied with the middle finger, leaving you alone with Lovino, trying to figure out what the hell to say.  
"So uhh-"  
"We need to talk bastard."  
Your eyebrows shoot up. Well that could work too, you stand from the table and follow Lovino as he strides past you and onto the fields outside. The chill air was a god send after being cooped up in the building with no escape from the heat. You follow Lovino to the bleachers, neither of you saying a word and focusing on things like the number of stars blanketing the sky, or how the bleachers need a new coat of paint.  
Lovino stopped, you do the same a few feet behind, staying silent. He twirls around and you immediately take a step forward, so does he, and you end up pulling him into a long hug. His arms around your neck as he fills all of your senses and you feel yourself drowning in him.  
He pulls away and smirks at your frown, which makes you frown more.  
"What are we doing?"  
Now it is his turn to look confused. "What the fuck are you talking about bastard?"  
"This. You. What do you want from me?" You sigh and run a hand through you hair, a nervous habit that knocks your hair out of place and forces a few unruly curls out of the hairspray hold you had them trapped in.  
"We kiss and you freak out and refuse to speak to me for two months. You go out on dates but the moment I do, you always seem to have something to say about it. I bend over backwards for your every whim, and I do so gladly. So please Lovi, tell me. What do you want from me?"  
Lovino opened his mouth to speak, but paused. You feel like your whole world is crashing around you at the silence that follows your outburst, and you feel any hope you had left washing away. Until Lovi once again did something extremely unexpected. He closed the distance between you and pulled you down roughly to meet his mouth with your own. It was sloppy, and your teeth clashed together as you moved, but it was all Lovi, all passion and no hesitation, and you loved him for it.  
"I love you, stupid bastard."  
You grin and pull him closer, kissing him until you become light headed. "I love you to my Lovi~"  
He rolls his eyes and kisses you again. "Your car has bench seats right?"  
You think that settles it.  
Your names are Lovino Vargas and Antonio Carriedo and it turns out that senior prom went exactly how you hoped it would.


End file.
